


Absence and the Heart

by perrosguirec



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, set during/after Masquerade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perrosguirec/pseuds/perrosguirec
Summary: Christine rethinks her relationships with Erik and Raoul when both are absent the night of the Masquerade.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny & Christine Daaé
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

Christine entered the ballroom and looked around. Men and women floated by, each wearing a more elaborate costume than the next. She envied the couples out on the dance floor. Raoul was supposed to have accompanied her to the masquerade but had been called away on an emergency trip with his brother. Something to do with their investments on the other side of the country. His note had been brief and clearly written in haste.

She’d debated whether to go at all. Six months ago, Erik had informed her that he would be isolating himself so that he could finish his opera, _Don Juan_. When asked how long he would take, Erik could not say. He refused to put a time limit on himself, instead saying he would be back when his work was complete. When they’d said their goodbyes, Erik had presented her with a simple gold band. He was trusting her to remain loyal and to come back to him when the time came. With mixed feelings she’d accepted it, allowing him to slide it upon her finger.

In Erik’s absence, Christine had allowed herself to open her heart to Raoul. His gentle affection had always drawn her to him, even as children. With her newfound freedom she hardly went a day without seeing Raoul. Though much of her time was still devoted to the opera, she made time for him. They would dine together and sometimes take evening strolls through the city. They were happy. But Christine was always aware of the ring on her finger. Of the promise she had made to Erik. Of late, Raoul would try to ask about the significance of the ring but Christine would dodge the question. She did not know how to answer when she herself was unsure what the ring truly meant. Was it really just a promise to return for voice lessons? Or was it more?

She broke from her reverie when she bumped into someone. It was Little Meg, surrounded by a group of the other ballet girls. They all exclaimed in protest and Christine hastily backed away, a soft apology falling from her lips. The episode reminded her of her loneliness and she retreated to a fairly empty corner of the ballroom. She stood against the wall, gazing longingly at the dance floor. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined herself gliding along beside the other couples. But it was not Raoul she imagined dancing with. She felt her face flush as she pictured Erik’s hand around her waist, guiding her through the steps of a waltz. She opened her eyes, half expecting to see Erik standing before her. Embarrassed, she left the ballroom and slipped into one of the back corridors of the opera house. What was she thinking, coming to the masquerade unaccompanied?

Unthinkingly, she found herself in front of her dressing room door. It had been quite some time since she had stepped foot in the room alone. Ever since Erik had shut himself away she could not bring herself to linger in the dressing room for long. She had once considered it a sacred place. It was where she had first begun her lessons with Erik. Now, it only held bittersweet memories.

She opened the door and went inside. Immediately, a sense of calm came over her. She turned the gaslights on low and sat on the small sofa, hoping to collect herself. She could not bring herself to face the full-length mirror that had once served as an entry to Erik’s underground home. All at once she was overcome with emotion. With painful clarity, she realized how much she had missed Erik. Not just their music lessons, but their time spent together. No one could touch her soul like he could. Not even sweet Raoul. But Erik had given strict instructions to not be disturbed during his break. Christine felt at a loss without him and was distraught at the idea that he might take another six months to reappear.

She hastily tore her white domino from her face and let her tears flow freely. Her sobs echoed in the empty room and she longed for the days when Erik’s watchful eyes would never have let her cry alone. She imagined she heard the soft click of the revolving mirror and cried harder. If only Erik would appear, then she knew all would be right with the world.

A cold hand fell upon her shoulder. “Christine?”

Startled, she looked up and found herself face to face with Erik. She tried to form words but all she could do was stare.

“Christine, what has happened? Are you hurt?” He kneeled in front of her and took one of her hands in his.

“Oh, Erik…” she whispered. She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. “Please, don’t ever leave me again.”

He slid his arms around her and held her close, his breath warm against her neck. Christine shivered and pressed herself even closer, desperate for the contact. She felt his lips brush her skin in a chaste kiss. But she wanted more. She reached up and began to untie his mask. He immediately withdrew from her arms, his dark eyes flashing with fear.

“Please, let me. I do not fear you. I… I love you.”

At her words he froze and she wished she had removed his mask before she’d spoken. She slid off the sofa and joined him on the floor. His eyes followed her but he remained silent. “Erik, please. It’s true. I… I’ve missed you terribly and when I realized my feelings for you it felt too late. You told me not to disturb you and I’ve been so lonely.”

He looked away and lowered his head. “You know that is not true. You and the boy have been spending every waking moment together. You cannot possibly love me.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“I am always watching you, Christine.”

“I do love you. How can I prove it to you?”

“A kiss,” he said so softly Christine almost missed it.

She smiled. “A kiss? Gladly, Erik.”

Christine took his hand in hers. “Where should I kiss you? Your hand?” She pressed a kiss to his palm. “Your cheek?” She leaned close and brushed her lips just beneath the edge of his mask. “Your lips?”

He surprised her by turning his head to meet her lips. She melted into the kiss and her blood thrilled when he deepened the kiss. She broke the kiss and asked for permission again to remove his mask. He hesitated but finally nodded his consent. With shaking fingers, she untied the ribbon that held his mask in place. He caught it in his hand and stared down at it, avoiding her eyes. Christine took in his face, studying it in a way she had never let herself before. Her memories had created a harsher image and she now realized that the horror she had first felt had faded. She brought her hands to his face and cupped it gently in her hands. She brushed one thumb over the collapsed bridge of his nose, tracing the imperfections of his right side.

“Please look at me. I promise, there is no fear, no disgust in my eyes,” she said.

Slowly, he turned his face toward her. She saw the awe and adoration in his eyes and hoped she reflected it back at him. He clutched her to him and sobbed against her curls, “My Christine…”


	2. Chapter 2

“Christine!” Raoul called as she was stepping out of her building. Her heart sank at the sight of him. How was she to tell him what had transpired the evening of the masquerade?

“Raoul, how was your trip?” she asked politely and withdrawing her hand from his grasp before his lips settled on her knuckles. Her heart ached at the confusion and hurt on his face. He recovered swiftly, however, and offered her his arm. She took it and they made their way to a nearby park.

“The trip went well. Crisis was averted thanks to Philippe.” He smiled. “I apologize for missing the masquerade, I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

“Yes, well, I did go for a bit. But it was lonely without you and I left quite early.”

Raoul patted her hand, “Soon enough there will be plenty of balls for you to attend.”

Christine stopped in her tracks and her arm slipped from Raoul’s. “What do you mean?”

His fair face flushed and he picked at his gloves for a moment before grasping her hands. “Oh, Christine. I was going to ask you to dine with me tonight and explain then. But this is as nice a place as any…” He led her to a bench a few steps from them and gestured for her to sit. He sat beside her and fidgeted before taking off his hat. “Christine, from the moment we met, even as children, I knew I would never be content until you were my wife. When my family stopped going to the coast I feared I would never find you again. I took a post in the navy to try to forget what could have been when I lost you. But imagine my surprise when Philippe dragged me to the opera and there you were. Singing with the voice of an angel! Oh, Christine, please say you will marry me?”

Christine could not help the tears that fell. She tried to collect herself. “Oh, Raoul… oh forgive me but I cannot.” She closed her eyes, too ashamed to bear witness to his heartbreak.

“Christine, but why? I do not understand. Do you love me?” he asked, voiced cracking on his own tears.

The awful truth was that she did love him. But how could she make him understand that the kind of love she felt for him paled in comparison to the love she felt for Erik.

“I am sorry for giving you false hope. I thought… I thought I was happy with you. But I’ve come to understand that my happiness lies elsewhere. I do not know how else to explain it.”

He was quiet for a time and Christine finally shifted her gaze to him. He had returned his hat to his head and was staring at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. He looked up and met her gaze. Tears continued to fall from his glassy eyes but he smiled sadly at her and took a deep breath. “I cannot pretend that this is not devastating news. But your happiness has always been my motivation. Ever since I ran into the sea for your scarf, I have sought to please you. To provide happiness for you. If I cannot do that… if you have found this happiness elsewhere, as you say, I could never take you from that.”

“Raoul, you are too good to me. I don’t know what else to say.”

“I suppose there is nothing more left to say. Will this happiness keep you in the city?” he asked, taking her hand and running his finger over the gold band.

“I’m not sure. There is a possibility I will be leaving.”

Raoul let go of her hand and brushed away his tears. He handed his handkerchief to Christine and she pressed it to the drying tears on her face. When she tried to hand it back he held up a hand and gestured for her to keep it.

“It would be a shame to take you from the limelight. But I suspect that is not quite where your happiness lies.”

He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and he tucked her hand back in the crook of his arm, offering to walk her to the opera for the day’s rehearsal. She accepted. They were both aware that this was to be their last stroll together and they spent it in companionable silence. When they arrived at the opera house they stood beside each other and looked up at the grand structure.

Raoul turned to her and sighed. “I supposed this is goodbye. I want to let you know that I have decided to join the Polar Expedition that was offered to me. I leave in a month and I’ll be gone for… well, I’m not quite sure. I’d like to ask you if I could write to you while I am away?”

Christine nodded. “Yes, I would like that. I will let you know should my address change.”

He smiled at her one last time before he withdrew from her side and turned down the street. He looked back at her before completely out of sight and she raised her hand in acknowledgment. Then he turned the corner and was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine stood staring at the small cottage before her. It was perfect, as if it had been plucked from her childhood dreams. Erik called to her from within and she walked, still in a daydream, into the house.

“Christine, is everything alright? You shouldn’t stand out there for long, you could catch your death.”

“Erik, this is wonderful. This house is really ours?”

Erik smiled and settled a hand at the small of her back. “Yes. I purchased it some time ago. When I could only dream of having a bride.” He guided her around the cottage. “It is small, but I think will suit our needs. Room for our music… and children, should you want them.”

Christine rested her head against his chest. “It’s perfect.”

~*~

“For you, Christine,” Erik handed her a letter. “From the b- from the young Vicomte.”

Christine took it from her husband and carefully opened it. Raoul had been gone on the Polar Expedition for nearly a year and it seemed there was no end in sight. Letters from him were few and far between but Christine cherished their correspondence. Erik had not commented on their communication but she knew it made him wary. Still, he did not interfere and for that she was grateful. 

> _Madame Gustaveson,_
> 
> _My congratulations on your marriage. It pleases me to know that you continue to find happiness where you are. Our expedition is still hoping to make contact with any survivors of the_ Artois, _though our hopes are dwindling. It is a barren wasteland on the frozen land and I am fearful that there are no survivors to be found. I cannot imagine how the crew could last in such frigid conditions. But, we carry on. We will be nearing the last known coordinates of the_ Artois _soon. I am not sure how long we will spend in the area or how much more north we may go if we find no evidence of the ship or crew. Unfortunately, this may be our last correspondence until our return trip. Our letters will not be able to reach the post once we leave our last port. I will continue to write, however, and you will know when we are on our return, as you no doubt will receive a bundle of letters._
> 
> _Christine, I must thank you for allowing me to continue to write to you. My brother does not write as beautifully as you and it truly does warm my heart to know of your happiness. I only regret that I could not be the source of it._
> 
> _Raoul_

Christine set the letter aside and stood from the sofa, crossing to the window overlooking the back of their cottage. Erik joined her. “How is the young Vicomte?”

“He seems alright. Not as in high spirits as he once was. The expedition does not sound like it will be a successful one. I do worry for him.” She sighed but put Raoul out of her mind for the time being, knowing Erik was only being polite.

“I am eager for spring. I want to plant a few things before it becomes too difficult to do so,” she said, resting her hand over her stomach.

Erik drew her close and covered her hand with his own. “I think the cold will break soon. If it doesn’t, I will be more than happy to assist you in your garden.”

Turning her face to him she found him already gazing at her. She tilted her face, silently asking for a kiss. His lips curved into a smile before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a rewrite of one of my really old pieces (Masquerade by perrosguirec on fanfiction.net) but it became something entirely different. I'm pretty happy with it, especially considering it's been a couple of years since I wrote for this fandom.
> 
> I used a mix of Leroux/ALW Erik, Christine, and Raoul. I'm constantly changing my canon image of Erik. I typically stick with Leroux but sometimes I like the aesthetic of Erik have one side of his face beautiful and the other disfigured. 
> 
> As we know, Erik does not have a surname. When I was very new to the fandom I used to use Destler but have since stopped that. I created a new one for this fic, Gustaveson. I tried to work the background of this name into the story but it was a clunky scene so I got rid of it. But from my research, surnames (as we think of them) were not very common in Sweden until the 1800s. Surnames in Sweden typically represent geographic/topographical location, occupation, or lineage. So I took Christine's father's name (Gustave - canon ALW) and added the common suffix of -son. I think Erik would have known about the way Swedish surnames came about and would have chosen this name for them as an homage to Christine's heritage.
> 
> come find me on tumblr @perrosguirec


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